Title: Drink One For Me (2/4)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: In the past, Leonard has been more than willing to attend a Spring Fling or two as his captain’s wing man. But when Spock starts tagging along, Leonard realizes he may have been assuming some things he shouldn’t have.
Previous Part: 1
Or read at AO3

I don’t know what happened! Goodbye. :/

Part One

The survey of the plant’s surface is to be a quick affair because the Enterprise is scheduled to be in a different sector in two solar days. The individuals who are to beam down have been informed that their sampling, measuring, and cataloging must be completed within a six-hour period. Being no stranger to working under tight timetables, Science’s excitement to be planetside is not lessened by the brevity of the exercise. The department will spend the next week analyzing what is collected and comparing their results to the records of the previous explorations of the planet.

Certainly that is something to look forward to—or at least Leonard thinks so while he enters the transporter room on the heels of two bright-eyed Science officers.

The person standing beside the transporter tech is none of than the head of that department. Padd in hand, Mr. Spock greets the last of his officers and checks them off the survey party roster as present. Then he gives his attention to McCoy, who sidles up to the transporter console in anticipation of what the Vulcan is about to say.

Spock does not disappoint him. “Dr. McCoy, I can think of no reason for you to be here other than to accompany the landing party to the surface.”

“Looks that way.”

“May I inquire what happened to the staff member appointed for medic duty?”

“He received a last-minute assignment. I’m substituting.”

They stare at each other, Leonard calm, Spock unmoving.

Finally, Spock lifts his padd and makes a few keystrokes. “The medic reassignment has been approved. Proceed to the transporter.”

Leonard steps toward the platform with clear reluctance. “Can’t we take a shuttle?”

Spock moves out from behind the console. “The allotted time for the survey is already quite constrained, Doctor. To prepare a shuttlecraft would delay our work by an additional hour.”

“All right, all right, I was just makin’ a comment.”

“And now you have been enlightened as to why that comment is illogical.”

An indignant Leonard stalks to the transporter pad, and the others already there shuffle themselves around to leave two spaces open next to each other. Spock takes one, and Leonard steps up to the other.

He grips his tricorder kit as the tech activates the machine that will scatter his atoms. “Here we go…” he mutters to himself, a calming technique which has never worked that well.

Leonard reforms on the planet with nary a molecule out of place but he still complains, “We were lucky that time.”

Spock only cocks an eyebrow at him before taking charge of the team. The planet’s survey is officially underway.

~~~

The scientists separate into threes and head into the undergrowth in different directions. Spock, as the last of Science left behind in the clearing, finishes his notes for his official log, and then trades out his padd for a tricorder. He walks the border of the clearing as he scans it and Leonard, hands at his back, trails along after him.

The Vulcan stops with his tricorder aimed at a thin, waspish-looking tree with iridescent leaves, which he studies for some time while he recalibrates his device. Leonard circles around behind him, bouncing up and down on his toes to stretch his calf muscles, and begins to fiddle with his own tricorder. Spock moves to a different tree. Leonard follows him.

By the time they have made their way through the forest to another clearing, Leonard has taken to peering over the Vulcan’s shoulder for a better look at whatever Spock appears interested in. If the doctor also thinks the plant species is interesting, he remarks, “Fascinating.”

But the fourth time he does this, he accidentally leans in too close and bumps into the other officer, who freezes in place.

A few seconds pass with neither of them saying a word.

Then Spock rounds on Leonard in an unusually aggressive way. “Doctor, do you require assistance?” His tone is too strong to be labeled polite.

Leonard shakes his head. “No.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Excuse me?”

“To be specific,” Spock says, “why are you following me when you are free to move in any direction?”

Leonard stiffens. “Can’t I make my own judgment of where I want to go?”

The Vulcan’s stare is so intent on the doctor that he doesn’t even blink.

Leonard huffs. “Never mind,” he says gruffly, adjusting the strap of his medkit across his chest. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.” He retreats to the opposite side of the clearing.

After a few seconds, Spock calls him back.

Leonard turns around.

“I was merely… curious,” is the explanation. Spock says this while staring down at his tricorder as if it contains some terribly fascinating data. “The last survey expedition to this planet noted native vegetation one point six-nine kilometers to the north which is similar in constitution to the berries farmed on Cerberus for their medicinal properties.”

Leonard comes back across the clearing slowly. “That’s interesting. If you add an extra sample to the survey kit, I could always run some tests of my own back on the ship.”

“I will select it at your discretion.” Spock heads in the direction which must be north.

If Leonard can tell when he isn’t wanted, he can also tell when someone is offering an unspoken apology. Mollified, he hurries after his companion.

~~~

At midday, Leonard helps Spock pack up the samples collected for the survey thus far for transport to the ship. This is the opportunity he has been waiting for, and so he says, “Jim told me you agreed to attend the Gala.”

“There was no reason to decline the request.”

Leonard eyes the Vulcan. “It was that easy, huh?”

Spock spares him the briefest of glances.

Leonard packs a few more samples, mulling things over until he comes to a quiet conclusion. “You’ve changed, Spock.”

The Vulcan reacts by withdrawing his hands from the container and sitting back on his heels.

“Doctor, it is obvious you have joined this survey with the intention of disturbing my work. Why?”

“When you put it like that, you make me sound like a bad person.” Leonard purses his mouth. “Did it occur to you that I’m trying to broach a sensitive subject while we have some privacy to discuss it?”

“I have an office.”

“So do I.” Leonard looks away. “But this isn’t exactly ship’s business, and I don’t always want to stand on formalities with you.”

He expects some smart remark to that statement.

Spock surprises him by saying, “What would you like to know?”

Leonard fiddles with a label. “Did Jim say anything specific about why he wants you there?”

“He made a statement regarding reinforcements, but the explanation was somewhat unwilling and I did not pursue it.”

Sitting back on his heels too, Leonard releases a slow breath. “Then maybe he really does need you.”

“I am sorry, Doctor, I do not follow.”

“Nothing, Mr. Spock. I’m just… surprised, is all.” But he cannot leave it at that, he knows, for all the fuss he made about being able to communicate with Spock. “Jim asked me to go too.”

“I am aware of that. It was part of his tactic to convince me to agree. His exact words were, ‘You know how bored Bones will be without you.'”

“That skulduggerd!”

“Indeed.” Spock pauses. “I will admit, I do not often understand your penchant for changing words to suit your needs, but in this case it seems very appropriate.”

Leonard holds back a snort. He has a thing or two more he wants to call Jim, all right. What aggravates him most is that the observation isn’t wrong. Spock does keep Leonard engaged—not that Leonard ever plans to admit so out loud. Spock would be smug about it for years!

No, his real problem is explaining what’s on his mind without coming across as a jealous fool.

He sighs. There is nothing he can do but try his best.

“You probably know that it’s not unusual for the Captain to ask me to accompany him to formal events—often informal ones too. So, you see,” Leonard hedges, “it’s something I do with him.”

“If you are attempting to tell me that you would be uncomfortable in my company, you need only say so.”

Leonard’s hands come up automatically in denial. “No! No, that’s not it at all, Spock. I’m not jealous. Well, maybe I am a tiny bit—”

One of Spock’s eyebrows rises up half an inch.

“—but my point is something else entirely.” He scowls for a second. “And don’t give me that crap about not enjoying your company. We both know I like you.”

The eyebrow climbs higher.

Realizing what he just said, the doctor flushes. “That… came out wrong. Forget I just said that, Spock, ’cause I swear I will deny it to my dying breath. God, what a mess! My point is this: I think Jim is good for you and vice versa, but it concerns me that he’s changing his M.O.”

“M.O.?”

“Modus operandi.”

“Ah.”

“At the Gala I’ll act as his wing man.”

Spock opens his mouth but Leonard shushes him quickly with “Don’t ask me to explain that. Let’s just say it involves weird human courting rituals.”

Spock’s other eyebrow joins its twin near his hairline.

“I will also act as his buffer,” Leonard goes on to explain. “But you, Spock… what does he intend for you to do? Stand there and look pretty?”

“Doctor, your choice of words is starting to alarm me.”

Leonard is too deep into musing to care. “You do have some diplomatic skill, it’s true. More than me at any rate. And you could fend off amorous advances by simply looking clueless, which I don’t think is far-fetched at all for you. You wouldn’t recognize flirting if it came up and tugged on your pointed ear.”

“Doctor…”

“But this still doesn’t sit right with me, Spock. Maybe he does want you to stand there. Observe.”

“Dr. McCoy.”

Leonard rubs at his chin thoughtfully. “If that’s his motivation, then what is it about this party that would require a Vulcan as astute as you are to be witness to what happens?”

“Leonard.”

The sound of his first name startles Leonard enough to shift his attention back to Spock. “Did you just call me Leonard?”

“It was necessary.”

Leonard nearly smiles. “What a warm, fuzzy feeling I have!”

Spock gives him a strange look. “Exposure to this atmosphere seems to be affecting you oddly, Doctor. Perhaps you should return to the ship.”

“No. You’re going to help me figure out what Jim isn’t telling us.”

“…Very well.”

Realizing that they had packed all the samples while they talked, Leonard clicks the container lid down and locks it. Spock rises to his feet and opens his communicator to arrange for the container’s pickup.

Leonard watches him for a moment, then says a bit smugly to himself, “Knew you wouldn’t recognize it, hobgoblin.” Then he too stands up, and everything returns to business as usual.

~~~

Aurelis has twin moons, both of a bluish, glittery hue mainly attributed to the heavy deposit of ore found in their soil. But the similarities end there, for one moon has been beautifully cultivated to lure travelers and the other is nothing more than an eyesore. It has no waystation, nor could have one with the volume of trash and debris that trail its orbiting wake. The surface is pocked with craters and crashed ships and somewhere, supposedly, the remnants of a failed mining empire. The contrast is so undeniably startling between the moons, the sight has often been described as a billionaire’s estate sharing a neighborhood with a junkyard.

Leonard has to wonder how a race as prideful as the Aurelians could think so little of their abandoned moon. Why have they never tried to revitalize it? Is it ruined? Toxic?

He doesn’t know.

Once the Enterprise has properly established orbit and communicated their arrival, Leonard has no difficulty in making out the structure that protects the Aurelis Moon’s inhabitants from its inhospitable atmosphere. The Dome, as the structure is called, covers a third of the surface. From space, it looks like a large latticework of mirrors that, similar to a funhouse, throw the starlight back into space with odd distortions. The occasional charter-craft comes and goes from the Dome, shuttling passengers to and from neighboring ships.

Soon enough, it is the Enterprise’s turn to join the melee.

So much for a shuttle ride, Leonard thinks wistfully from his place on the transporter pad.

To the person next to him, he gripes, “This collar is strangling me!” He tugs at it futilely, trying to alleviate the choke-hold his formal Starfleet uniform has on his neck.

Spock, quite familiar with this complaint, makes no rejoining comment. Instead he directs his attention to the third member of their party. “Captain, we will be late if we do not beam down in the next minute and seven seconds.”

“Yeah, Jim, what’s the hold up?”

The man in question murmurs something to the person behind the transporter console. That person is the Enterprise’s Chief Engineer, Montgomery Scott, who in turn shakes his head.

Kirk sighs softly. “You two…” he says as he steps away from the console, not needing to add anything else to express his sentiment. He joins them on the platform. “All right, Scotty.” Jim briefly lifts his hand as confirmation of their readiness to depart.

Mr. Scott nods. “Aye, Capt’n.” Then the man winks at the trio. “Ye gents stay out of trouble doun there.”

It’s Jim who offers a slight smile. “Duly noted, Mr. Scott.”

Within the Dome, the three Starfleet officers reform on a landing in the middle of a trimmed lawn and garden. The landing is perfectly situated to offer an intimidating view of a white stone mansion. At three levels high, the structure looms overhead like some ancient beast waiting to devour newcomers; its limbs are the wings that sprawl to either side, curling around the property’s edges to contain the grounds and, it seems, anything that might think to escape. Grandiose, one would call it. Comprised of winding staircases, intricately carved balustrades, and deep, echoing halls, to the Aurelians this building is the perfect representation of their power. It is also the family seat of the oldest blood lineage from Aurelis: ancestors who, for some undisclosed reason, abandoned their planet nearly a thousand years ago to live on one of their moons.

Always impressed by homes that he couldn’t imagine wanting to live in, Leonard whistles.

“Something, isn’t it?” Jim says, striding forward to the edge of the landing.

“You’ve been here before?”

“A long time ago,” his friend replies before pausing. “Maybe not that long when I think about it, but still it feels like my twenties are far behind me.”

“Cry me a river,” Leonard says sarcastically. “I don’t even remember my twenties.”

“I do not understand this habit of humans to ‘feel old’.”

“Can it, hobgoblin. You’re the youngest of us all. I have no sympathy for you.”

“I am not interested in your sympathy, Doctor.”

“You’re still not getting it.”

Spock releases the faintest huff of breath through his nose.

For some reason, Jim smiles. “Bones, you’re the only one I know who can make Spock sigh like a human.”

Spock half-turns toward Kirk as if he cannot believe his friend would insult him so.

Leonard drawls, “Why, thank you, Captain. That’s a lovely compliment!”

“Gentlemen,” Spock says, part in disbelief, part in warning.

Jim’s deliberate cough does nothing to hide his amusement. The man takes the lead, heading for the nearest set of stairs. Leonard locks his hands behind his back and happily follows along on his friend’s heels.

Spock trails farther behind, no doubt questioning the logic that led him to accept an invitation to a party alongside the two most troublesome humans he knows.

~~~

Normally Leonard is excellent at sticking to Jim’s side like a burr, but at the Gala Jim does something strange right from the beginning. He leads Leonard and Spock straight to the nearest granite-faced waiter inside the ballroom. From the waiter’s tray, he plucks two glasses filled with pinkish champagne and hands them to Leonard and Spock. Then he squeezes their respective shoulders, smiles, and says, “Enjoy!”

At first Leonard is too startled to react. When his brain finally cottons on to the abandonment, he scuttles after Kirk with the cry “Jim! Wait a minute!” but, slippery as an eel, the other man has disappeared into the crowd.

Out of frustration, the doctor downs his drink in a single swallow then helps himself to Spock’s glass too. To the unconcerned Vulcan, he accuses, “This is your fault.”

“Since I am not forcing you to drink in excess, I should bear no blame for your unfortunate habit.”

Leonard rounds on Spock, sputtering, “W-Why, you…”

Spock blinks placidly at him.

“Never mind,” Leonard snaps. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“As you did not take the time to clarify your meaning, Dr. McCoy, I was free to interpret it.”

“For Christ’s sake, would you stop sassin’ me!” Leonard points in the direction he last saw Jim. “Our captain has run away!”

Spock folds his hands behind his back. “Did he? I assume he had somewhere to go and no desire to take us along.”

“Exactly!”

Spock studies him. “Why are you so distraught?”

Leonard doesn’t answer right away, pressing his lips together until they form a thin line. When he does speak, he admits, albeit reluctantly, “You might be right. I’m overreacting.” The doctor swallows hard. “Jim will come back?”

That last remark is more of a hopeful question than a statement of fact.

Spock answers softly, “If he does not, we shall locate him.”

Leonard’s shoulders slump in relief. “Good,” he says, then repeats more strongly, “Good.” He looks at the two empty glasses in his hands, noticing they are made of Dinarian crystal. Obviously no expense was spared for this party. “Sorry I stole yours.”

“You were welcome to it.”

“Okay.” He runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “It’s lightweight stuff anyway. C’mon,” he adds with a bob of his head toward the other side of the ballroom, “let’s find something stronger.”

“As you wish, Dr. McCoy.”

Spock dutifully follows Leonard in search of the open bar, the both of them keeping a close lookout during this trek for their errant third. However, Jim is simply nowhere to be seen.

~~~

The bar is a disappointment, offering a multitude of wines and more champagne but nothing of the hard liquor variety.

While Leonard is mulling over which wine to choose, next to his elbow someone leans on the bar counter and says, “Disappointing, isn’t it?”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Leonard replies glumly. “I don’t much care for wine.”

“Unfortunately, Aurelians love the stuff. There’s a greenhouse-vineyard on the other side of the Dome.” The man eyes Leonard’s uniform.

Leonard offers his hand in greeting. “Leonard McCoy,” he says congenially.

“Starfleet,” his neighbor guesses, shaking his hand. “Interesting to see you here.” Then he smiles. “Mark Connors. I’m in… wine trade.”

Leonard returns the smile. “I bet you get invited to all the fun parties.”

Mark winks. “Sometimes. What about you? Did Starfleet let you off the leash for the evening?”

The doctor shrugs. “More like my captain. I’m just along for the ride.”

“Ah.” The man turns to survey the ballroom. “And your captain is…?”

“James T. Kirk.”

A strange emotion passes through Connors’ eyes. “…Kirk?”

Suddenly feeling wary, Leonard catches the gaze of Spock, who is waiting at the other end of the bar where it is less crowded. He inclines his head in a subtle come here.

But Mark’s friendliness has returned. He says, “I see some of the staff trying to get my attention. Business waits for no one. It was nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. McCoy—and try the house wine. You won’t be as disappointed as you think.”

“Thanks.”

They shake hands again.

Spock arrives after Connors has left.

“Fascinating,” Leonard says.

“What is, Doctor?”

Leonard shrugs slightly. “Looks like there are still some places in the galaxy where Starfleet is the red-headed stepchild.” When Spock doesn’t reply, Leonard studies at him. “Something wrong, Spock?”

“Negative.”

The guarded look in the Vulcan’s eyes surprises Leonard, but he decides not to press further. Instead he says, “How do you feel about wine?”

“I can drink it.”

“I didn’t ask if you could. Do you like it?”

“I have no preference.”

Leonard rolls his eyes heavenward. “God forbid I get a straight answer out of a Vulcan. All right, I’m making an executive decision. Let’s skip the booze for now.”

“Excellent suggestion, Dr. McCoy.”

Leonard snorts and purposely pokes Spock with his elbow as he slips past. “You don’t have to sound so thrilled about it. Do you want to mingle or look for Jim?”

“Perhaps we would be best-served to attempt both at the same time.”

“I like the way you think.”

Spock offers a dry comeback, and Leonard gladly counters it. In this fashion, they make their way to a group of officials who look somewhat familiar to Leonard but whose names he cannot remember. Luckily, he has a partner at his side with a computer for a brain.

The Gala has begun in earnest.

~~~

“I must be in terrible form tonight,” Leonard admits to no one in particular, as there is no one to admit this to. Truth be told, he has just lost a Vulcan in addition to a captain.

The more the doctor thinks about it, the more convinced he is that it should be damned difficult to lose Spock—especially when said Vulcan expresses the belief that Leonard should not be left to his own devices. He had assumed Spock meant to stay with him all evening, and he had gladly planned to do the same. After all, it makes Leonard feel good to protect his friends, especially given that he considers it to be one of the only ways he can protect them. He’s not cunning like Jim or super-strong like Spock, but it is a well-known fact that he is a hell of a flirt.

Maybe that’s why Spock escaped when he had the chance. Could he tell Leonard was getting bored enough to ask him to waltz?

Does Spock even dance? the man muses, watching a couple go by arm-in-arm. He isn’t certain he has ever seen the Vulcan dance, but he would bet a month’s salary that Spock’s mother, Amanda Grayson, has shown her son one or two of the popular Terran dances. He would also bet another month’s salary Sarek had been lured into those lessons.

The thought of a stiff-necked father and son being herded around by one determined human woman makes Leonard chuckle.

The people standing nearby give him odd looks but don’t dare invite him into their circle, lest they catch whatever awkwardness keeps him isolated from the rest of the party. Leonard decides he doesn’t want to be gawked at and moves closer to an open balcony. There, he jerks at his collar for the umpteenth time. Although the air within the Dome is temperature-controlled and it feels like a spring day, he misses the lack of breeze.

For a moment, while Leonard is people-watching, the crowd parts to reveal the opposite side of the dance floor and two familiar figures. Leonard starts forward immediately, only to come to a standstill when he sees the kind of company that Spock and Jim are keeping. The female in the floor-length, azure gown is Aurelis’ Governor. On her arm is her husband, smaller in person than the holovids portray him to be but not any less intimidating. Leonard knows enough about the temperament of Aurelians to recognize that if he invites himself into that conversation, he will offend his hosts. They won’t think twice about turning him into the social pariah of the party.

He slinks backwards.

Besides, he rationalizes to himself, the Governor looks more imposing than T’Pau, the matriarch of Spock’s clan—and T’Pau made him feel like an ant about to be stepped on by a giant boot.

He slips out onto the balcony to find a quiet corner to relax in for the time being. The view of the grounds from the second story is gorgeous, if one discounts the hired security in plain, inconspicuous black intermittently standing guard about the premises. He wonders if, given the number of guards, the Aurelians are paranoid about some enemy or other crashing their festivities.

“Doctor.”

Startled, Leonard shifts away from his corner—only to press himself back into it as a touch of alarm slides down his spine, followed by an instinct to stay hidden. Two figures come into view, moving to the opposite end of the balcony. One is an Aurelian male (a high-ranking officer, concludes Leonard from the insignia on the humanoid’s lapel) and the other is Terran.

The light from the twin moon hits against the side of the human’s face. Leonard recognizes instantly as Mark Connors, the wine trader.

“Doctor,” the Aurelian says in menacing Standard, “my patience wears thin. I thought I had already shown you what can happen when I no longer feel patient.”

“Another day—I need one more day. There was a delay with—”

The Aurelian moves too quickly for Leonard to track, bending Connors backwards against the balcony railing until his legs dangle off the ground. The man gasps, at the mercy of the hand around his neck.

My god, Leonard thinks, he’s going to throw him over!

The Aurelian hisses, “I don’t want excuses. I want what we were promised!”

“Y-Yes, of c-course,” stutters Connors. “T-Tomorrow! I swear—the ship—no, don’t!“

The Aurelian steps back and sends the frightened man rolling away across the balcony floor like a discarded puppet. Connors stumbles to his knees, then to his feet before he levers himself upright by using the far wall.

Leonard moves without thinking. The trader’s head jerks up, turns in Leonard’s direction. Despite the darkness, their eyes meet.

The Aurelian seems to have lost his tolerance for conversation. He strides to the archway separating the balcony and ballroom and pauses there to deliver one last threat: “Tomorrow. Or you’ll wish I had let you fall.”

Then he is gone.

Leonard hurries to the one left behind, hands instinctively reaching for a medical tricorder at his waist that isn’t there. “Are you all right?” he asks.

Mark says nothing, merely presses a hand to his stomach as if it pains him.

“What was that about?”

The man moves away like a skittish animal when Leonard tries to touch him, smoothing the creases in his clothes with shaking hands. “You’re lucky he didn’t see you,” he says, voice tense, “or you’d be in a worse spot than me.”

“Here, sit down,” Leonard says, trying to approach him again. “I let me look you over. I’m a doctor.”

The offer of assistance is declined. “Forget what you saw,” Leonard is advised. “What you heard—and that you ever met me.”

“I can’t,” Leonard replies stubbornly. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on here but I want to help.”

“I promise you that if you try, you’ll end up dead.”

With that flat, unfriendly remark, the man leaves Leonard standing by himself on the balcony, brain firing off a dozen questions per second.

What is really going on beneath the calm surface of the Aurelis Moon Gala?

~~~

Disturbed by the scene on the balcony, Leonard has never felt so unhappy to be on his own. At the very least, he wants to share the tale of the encounter with someone. Then he wants to investigate, as in his mind that obviously would have to come next.

His search for his friends is waylaid by a pretty lady with a determination to block his path. Her opening line is “Oh, hello. Aren’t you handsome!”

Leonard cannot help but stop to give her his attention. While he knows he is rather plain in looks, it never hurts to hear otherwise.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he drawls. “You’re lovelier—much too lovely to be talking to the likes of me.”

She laughs merrily, sidles closer to brush her fingers across the front of his blue uniform. “Do you like to dance?”

“Sure, who doesn’t?”

“Then, if I’m as lovely as you say, why haven’t you asked me to dance?”

“I had no idea you wanted me to.”

“Oh, Captain! You’re funny too!”

Leonard’s eyebrows fly upward. “Captain?”

“I heard you were attending the Gala, and I just had to meet you.” She bats her eyelashes at him. “You are far handsomer than my friends said you were.”

Leonard really hates to ruin her fantasy (not to mention his moment of admiration) but if he doesn’t say something soon, he will start laughing.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he apologizes as delicately as he can, “you seem to be mistaken. I’m a doctor, not a captain. Dr. Leonard McCoy.”

She blinks—and withdraws her hand from his person. “Oh… Dr. McCoy?”

“Yes.” He casts a look around them. “But perhaps I can help you locate the man you’ve mistaken me for.”

“That… will not be necessary.” She titters a little but the laughter isn’t genuine. “I’m so embarrassed! Forgive me for disturbing you, Doctor.”

“No problem,” he says but she is already moving away as quickly as she can and likely hasn’t heard him. “Oh well,” he tells himself, “you can’t win them all, Leonard.”

He hopes she finds that ‘Captain’ she is looking for, especially since he has a good idea of who her quarry must be. At this point, Jim deserves the trouble.

~~~

“Spock!”

“Ah, Dr. McCoy.”

Leonard stalks up to the Vulcan and jabs a finger in his chest. “Where the heck did you run off to, you pointy-eared nuisance! I’ve had a time trying to locate you!”

“Did I not mention that I had a need to use the facilities?”

“You certainly didn’t!” But Leonard steps back to give Spock more breathing room. “I saw you with Jim earlier.”

“We crossed paths.”

“And now you’ve un-crossed them?” Leonard huffs and doesn’t give his companion time to answer. “I knew it. He’s avoiding me.” A few seconds later, he cuts his eyes at the Vulcan. “Well, aren’t you going to say that’s an illogical assumption?”

Spock neatly sidesteps the question. “I have no data on which to base an opinion.”

The doctor crosses his arms. “Now you’re just making me more suspicious.”

“I noticed you had company a moment ago. It would be proper to introduce me.”

Leonard blinks and looks back over his shoulder. “Oh, her? My admirer thought I was Jim. When she realized her mistake, she took off like someone had lit her underpants on fire. I can only imagine what Jim is having to deal with right now. But speaking of admirers and the like, I didn’t rush over here just to berate you, Spock.”

“Shocking.”

Leonard ignores that dry remark and points across the ballroom. “See those ladies by the punch bowl?”

“Indeed.”

“They’re making cow eyes at you for a reason. I overheard them a minute ago. Somehow they have figured out you’re the son of an ambassador. You’re in trouble.” Leonard takes a hold of Spock’s elbow. “Let’s find a nice corner somewhere. If you stand still enough, maybe you’ll be mistaken for a creepy life-like statue.”

“Doctor, I thought I was here to observe.”

“You can observe from behind that potted plant. Ever heard of the phrase ‘out of sight, out of mind’?”

“No,” Spock quips, “but you seem determined to employ its literal meaning.”

“Make wisecracks all you want, hobgoblin, but you’ll thank me later for saving you from a boring marriage.”

“I do not recall expressing a desire to marry, Dr. McCoy.”

“Good,” Leonard says firmly.

“But I would like to know why you have taken a keen interest in my marital status.”

Leonard stops, purses his mouth. “Can’t you just say thanks?”

“For what?” the Vulcan counters lightly.

Leonard releases Spock to express his exasperation with a wild motion of his hands. “I don’t know why I bother!”

“Precisely—that is why I am curious.”

They study one another. The stalemate is broken by the approach of an Aurelian female in a wispy gown and with a coif of hair that, by the laws of physics, should not be able to remain vertical at that height.

“Spock of Vulcan,” she purrs, “I would like to make your acquaintance.”

Spock inclines his head slightly but says, “I regret that I am unavailable to do so at this time.” Then he folds his hands behind his back and peers down at his human companion. “I believe you were escorting me to a corner, Dr. McCoy?”

The female makes a tiny shocked noise.

Leonard’s blue eyes twinkle merrily as he replies, “It’d be my pleasure, Mr. Spock.”

Away from the female they go, in charity with one another.

~~~

Fortune favors Leonard after he tucks Spock away in an excellent hiding spot, promising Spock he would return with their captain and an interesting tale both men needed to hear. Jim appears alongside the h’ordeuvres table. Although not alone, his company is someone less prominent than the governor of Aurelis, so Leonard seizes the opportunity.

“Excuse me,” he says politely to the people he pushes in front in order to get to Kirk.

“Jim! Where have you been?” Leonard demands, latching onto the sleeve of the man’s gold uniform. Haha! Let Jim try to escape him this time!

He might have said that bit out loud because his friend sounds partly fond and partly annoyed when he calls Leonard, “Bones.”

Jim pries Leonard’s fingers off his arm. “Why aren’t you with Spock?”

“Bah, that stick in the mud doesn’t even know how to dance!”

“I have it on good authority that he does,” comes Jim’s reply. “If he says no, trick him into it.”

“You trick him into it,” Leonard retorts. “You owe me for dumping Spock on me anyway.”

A humanoid in a shimmering black tunic with a stylized serpent in bold blue and vivid scarlet embroidered across the breast pocket steps forward with a look of affront. His Standard is heavily accented. “Excuse me, Captain Kirk, but who is this person?”

Leonard starts to introduce himself but before he can finish, Jim places a hand on Leonard’s lower back and smiles charmingly at his guests.

“Sir Amun, I apologize for the interruption. He’s an old friend.”

The hand on Leonard’s back begins to gently push him aside. Leonard doesn’t resist at first, not until he realizes Jim has no real intention of introducing him properly and is instead trying to force him to leave. He is shocked enough by this that, when Spock suddenly appears at his elbow and takes over for Jim, guiding Leonard away, he allows himself to be led without a word. But once out of earshot of Kirk, Leonard comes to his senses and digs in his heels.

“What’s going on, Spock?”

“Doctor…”

“Don’t you dare lie to me!”

“I would not.” Spock watches him closely. “However, I have agreed not to reveal anything to you unless Jim is present.”

Leonard’s stomach sinks. “What do you mean? Reveal what?”

True to his word Spock says nothing, and no matter how Leonard pushes at him, the Vulcan remains stubbornly close-mouthed on the subject. He only points out that Jim is likely to join them in short order to provide answers.

Upon hearing that, Leonard is angry enough to tell Spock to hit the metaphorical highway. “Come find me when you can be useful, Mr. Spock!”

The irate doctor is working on his second glass of the house wine when Jim and Spock arrive at the bar.

Jim greets him too easily for a man who should know how upset his friend is and accepts a glass of champagne from the bartender. “I haven’t tried this yet. Is it good?” he asks, no doubt trying to ease the tension between them.

Leonard debates for a brief second on whether or not to hold his tongue but determines holding back is simply not his style. “What’s the meaning of all this, Jim?”

Jim takes a sip of the champagne. “Of what?”

“You practically kicking me to the curb. Spock acting like there is some big secret that’ll end the world if he divulges it.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

Leonard’s nostrils flare. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Spock edge closer as if the Vulcan expects he might need to intervene before their argument turns physical.

“I have a right to know, Jim.”

Jim makes a come with me gesture to both officers. Somehow they end up next to the same potted plant Leonard had warned Spock to stay behind earlier on.

Leonard folds his arms across his chest. “Tell me.”

“You said it yourself last week, Bones. The Aurelians are always looking to improve their political standing. Word came to Starfleet that they are about to make a deal—but not with the Federation.”

Leonard’s arms slowly unfold. “What?”

Jim’s smile has no humor behind it. “The Romulans want them, and if they get a toe-hold this far in…”

“That’s impossible!”

“Clearly not, Doctor,” Spock interjects. “If the Romulan Empire establishes a presence in this sector, the Federation cannot deny them an access route unless we are willing to risk a war.”

“My god,” Leonard says, rubbing a hand against his forehead. “Why can’t they just stick to fighting us over the outposts?”

Kirk squeezes his shoulder in silent agreement. “Supposedly there is going to be an exchange in the next few days. Starfleet needs to find out what’s rumor and what isn’t, and to make an offer to the Aurelians if necessary.”

It takes a second for that to sink in. “We’re not really here as poster children for the ‘Fleet, are we? This is an intelligence mission.”

“Not officially,” Spock is quick to clarify.

“Unofficially, then.” Leonard’s gaze challenges Jim’s. “And you couldn’t tell me why?”

“Bones.”

His temper returns. “Answer the damn question!”

A muscle in his friend’s jaw twitches, a sign that Jim is holding back his own temper. The man’s reply is clipped. “Lower your voice, McCoy.”

Leonard doesn’t deign to respond to that.

Kirk looks away, momentarily. “There are some who have reason to be suspicious of us attending the Gala. Of the three of us, I thought at least one needed to be… convincing. To give the appearance that our presence here is out of goodwill, nothing more.”

“The most convincing man is the one who doesn’t know anything,” Leonard states flatly. “In other words, I’m the dupe.”

“No. You’re a part of this team,” his friend insists, suddenly looking like he wants to shake Leonard into understanding.

“Can’t be part of team if you don’t know you’re playing, Jim.” Leonard steps back, voice rough because his throat feels constricted. “Normally I would be surprised, but this is not the first time you’ve decided I’m better off with my head buried in the sand.”

“Bones, let it go. This isn’t about you.”

The tightness in Leonard’s throat solidifies into a lump. He cannot swallow around it. Dumping his unfinished wine into the plant holder, he turns to leave.

“Bones?” Jim questions, his tone softening.

Leonard lifts a hand in a gesture of stop when his friend starts forward, and then his arm drops limply back to his side altogether. His shoulders lower of their own accord.

Moving to the nearest exit, he works at his collar but his hands are unsteady enough that it takes him longer than usual to undo the tiny clasps. Loosening the thing doesn’t alleviate his feeling of suffocation.

When Leonard hits an outer hallway, he thinks a bit desperately, Where the hell do I have to go to get off this blasted moon?

All-at-once, his eyes are wet. Coming to a standstill in the center of the great hall, he closes them and draws in several deep breaths.

The scrape of shoe on stone behind him echoes loudly in the stillness. Leonard opens his eyes and turns around.

The person behind him is someone entirely unexpected—and unwelcome.

Leonard watches the Aurelian with caution. He gives no indication that he recognizes him.

“Doctor.“

The single word is an accusation, accompanied by disgust. It sounds no different than when the Aurelian had used the title to address his earlier victim, Mark Connors.

In the lighting of the hall, Leonard has a chance to look the fellow over: his face is long and thin, pointed at the chin like most Aurelians; a mass of silver hair is pulled back into a thick braid behind his shoulders. Aurelians never cut their hair, so the braid reaches his waist. His clothing is opulent, the kind of material that befits the wealthier class, but somehow the image of his affluence only serves to make his thin face look sallow.

Or maybe, Leonard decides, that’s just the effect of the Aurelian’s ugly expression.

The doctor smiles amiably and offers a polite greeting. He moves aside as a person does when unintentionally blocking another person’s path (despite the extraordinary width of the hallway).

But the Aurelian approaches Leonard instead of walking past him. “Doctor,” he says again, then more pointedly, “Dr. Leonard McCoy.”

In that moment, Leonard’s bad feeling has nothing to do with Jim or Spock. “Do I know you?”

“Did you tell your captain?”

“Excuse me?”

The Aurelian comes closer still, until he is nearly looming over Leonard. He hisses, “Filthy little eavesdropper. You ran straight to him, didn’t you?”

Well, concludes Leonard, this is not going to end pleasantly at all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe you’ve mistaken me for someone else. It happens.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” The Aurelian makes a sharp motion with his hand.

A person enters the hall, or rather someone who has been in hiding nearby makes himself known. The newcomer is not Aurelian and very, very goon-like. Years of surviving missions gone awry have taught Leonard when to recognize a goon.

Anyone else might have lifted his hands in a gesture of placation and continued to bleat about his innocence, but Leonard doesn’t bother. He looks his enemy in the eyes and says, “You’re making a big mistake.”

The Aurelian steps aside to give the goon better access to the target.

“A big mistake,” Leonard says again, heart giving a lurch when he spies the arrival of someone who couldn’t have better timing. “Spock, over here!”

The goon suddenly disappears, melting back into a shadow. The Aurelian waits a moment longer, looking very angry to have his plans thwarted, before he hurries off in a different direction.

“Doctor,” Spock begins.

“No time for that,” Leonard interjects. “I think you just interrupted a kidnapping.”

Spock stops walking. “Whose?”

Leonard’s smile is not at all amused. “Mine,” he answers grimly.

Next Part

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